One layoff. A cascade of effects.

As a young married couple stretch their dollars, they face questions - big and small - about the future

BEVERLY - Michael Pueschel worked ever since he washed dishes and mopped floors at the Sisters of St. Joseph Motherhouse when he was a senior at Holyoke Catholic High School.

At the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, he changed the Mullins Center floor between basketball and hockey games. After graduating in 1997 with a degree in communications, Pueschel worked for a decade as a television news and sports producer before switching to Web producing at WBZ-TV because that, he thought, was where the future lay.

Then came March 31, 2008, the day the station laid off Pueschel and 31 other staffers. Since then, Pueschel, 33, has freelanced sporadically, but has yet to land a new job or come close to matching his $65,000 annual salary at WBZ.

Pueschel is one of 200,000 people collecting unemployment benefits in Massachusetts. His story is emblematic not only of the struggles unfolding in household after household during this recession, but also of the ripple effects unleashed as jobs disappear and people such as Pueschel and his wife, Myra, make compromises they never expected. Multiply the changes in the Pueschels' lives - as profound as postponing starting a family, as simple as giving up sweets from a North End bakery - and a picture emerges of an economic ecosystem in which a single event contributes to a cascade of reactions across a landscape of home and family and commerce.

. . .

Winter melted into spring last year with the Pueschels on track to realize their piece of the American dream. As a Web producer, Mike, lanky and earnest, finally was off night and weekend duty. Myra was settled in her $52,000-a-year job as a case manager at the federal appeals court in Boston. They bought their sunny two-bedroom attic condominium in 2006 for $170,000, and, with thoughts of having a baby, had started looking at houses.

"Things," Mike says, "were looking up."

They put those plans on hold when Mike lost his job in the same round of cutbacks that claimed WBZ veterans Bob Lobel and Joyce Kulhawik.

"We're trying to temper our expectations," Mike says. "I often wish I had my old job back, which was nice and stable. If I think about that too much, I get depressed, so I have to snap back to reality. There are people who are worse off. I have some income, and Myra works."

In September, reconsidering starting a family and prepared to rent an apartment, the Pueschels placed their condominium, located at the top of two steep, baby-unfriendly flights of stairs, on the market for $185,000. Real estate agent Nicole O'Connell posted pictures of their "adorable penthouse condo" on her website. After the holidays she cut the price to $179,000.

Were Mike still working, O'Connell could hope to collect commissions on the sale of the Pueschels' condo and their purchase of a house. Now she, too, tempers her expectations. Her income has plunged. A recent slight increase in sales, as mortgage rates fell, did little to salvage a year that until then had seen her business fall to roughly a quarter of what it was in 2007. She and her husband, who is an engineer, no longer add to their savings, beyond what his employer deducts for retirement. They have postponed projects for their Lawrence home.

"We need a new roof. We were going to do stuff around the house. A walkway and a driveway. That's been put on hold. We're paying our bills fine, but we're not able to do the extra," O'Connell says. "I have mixed emotions. In light of the recent activity I'm hopeful. However, I am still hearing more and more about people being laid off."

. . .

Mike sometimes thinks that if he hadn't gone into communications, he might have taught kindergarten, so it's no surprise he wants to have more than one child. Perhaps no adjustment the Pueschels have made since Mike lost his job was more wrenching than the decision to postpone starting a family that they're now weighing again.

"Friends say that there's never going to be a right time. There's always going to be a reason not to," Mike says. "It's still scary because babies are expensive."

"My parents made combined in the 30-thousands and raised all four of us," Myra, 32, says. "People do it all the time. We just worry too much."

Even as modern feminism and the introduction of oral contraceptives and the legalization of abortion have affected birth rates, the economy remains an important factor in the childbearing trends that influence everything from school enrollments to the size of tomorrow's workforce. In 1936, during the Depression, the average number of children a woman would bear dropped to a new low of 2.1, notes demographer Carl Haub of the Population Reference Bureau.

"In the 1970s, we had the oil crisis and the inflation that caused. In 1976, the total fertility rate dropped to 1.7 children per woman, and that still holds the record," Haub says. "We can certainly expect some consequence of the current situation."

. . .

Mike spends his days scouring job listings and sending out one of the two versions of the resume he refined with the help of the career counselor WBZ hired after the layoffs. He goes to job interviews holding a packet of references touting him as a "team player as well as a self-starter" and a "talented news producer and writer . . . capable of juggling many tasks." He waits for his wife, his sweetheart since he was 18, to come home.

"I never knew how much of his identity was wrapped up in his job," Myra says. "He talks my ear off some days."

"I'm home alone all day," Mike says.

The career management company that helped him is doing fine. Leslie Combs, vice president of Lee Hecht Harrison, spends half his time on the career transition side of the business, up from roughly one third a year ago. "I work in an industry," he says, "that is relatively recession proof."

Mike takes home $509 a week in unemployment, minus a dollar for every dollar over $200 that he earns freelancing. Unless his benefits are extended, his unemployment runs out in about a month. He's waiting to hear if he lands a job that pays almost $20,000 a year less than his old job, which at least is more than the $35,000-a-year job offer he turned down shortly after he was laid off. Recently, he heard about an opening in Atlanta.

"We're thinking about it, but not incredibly seriously," he says. "Myra would have to give up her job. At least we have a family support system here."

. . .

The 200 block of Cabot Street in Beverly houses the restaurant Soma, with its long, glossy bar and dining room of sleek banquettes and $9 white peach martinis and $22 crispy skinned salmon with asparagus in mustard sauce. The block is home, too, to the Family Dollar Store, overflowing with racks of $10 Bugle Boy fleece jackets and shelves with Kellogg's Frosted Flakes for $2.85 a box.

The establishments form the before-and-after bookends of the Pueschels' recalibrated lifestyle. Gone are the evenings when they walked to Soma, where, Mike says, "I love, love, love, love the grilled scallops" appetizer that runs $12 and where business suffers as other customers hold their wallets tighter.

"The bar continues to stay busy. People are still coming in as a social gathering place, but they're not spending the same," says owner Nikita Paras. "Instead of ordering something off the dinner menu, they're ordering off the pub menu. A cheeseburger or a quesadilla."

Now Mike bargain hunts for groceries at the Dollar Store, where chainwide earnings for the quarter that ended Nov. 30 are up 14 percent over a year earlier, says company spokesman Joshua Braverman. "We're starting to see a more high-income customer coming in."

Some little luxuries the Pueschels shun remain within reach for others. They no longer frequent the What's Brewin' Cafe, but owner Neil DeRosa doesn't miss them. He's doing well enough to be selling his house in Everett to move to Beverly. "Our prices are very low," he says. "We work on volume."

Yet in Boston's North End, where the Pueschels used to enjoy cannoli and cookies at Modern Pastry, bakery co-owner John Picariello laments a decline in business so severe his employees recently decided they'd rather cut hours, if need be, than risk layoffs. "The sweet tooth suffers," Picariello says. "People are still indulging. They're just being careful what they're spending."

These days the Pueschels watch Netflix DVDs and catch an occasional movie in a theater or stop by Maria's Pizza, where they and other customers find pizza an economical meal away from home. The trouble, says Maria's owner Barbara Lazarides, is that sales of kabobs and sandwiches are down, as are orders of platters for meetings at a nearby office park.

"I have customers who have been with me for 30 years," Lazarides says. "They're doing their usual routine every week. Thank God."

. . .

Most weekends, Myra and Mike Pueschel used to drive to Monson in south Central Massachusetts, where Myra's parents live in the basement apartment of her sister's home. "Myra loves family," says her father, 66-year-old Clifford Roy. "The only time they didn't come was if they went to a concert."

Since Mike lost his job, the Pueschels rarely make the trip. The cutback saves gas money but carries other costs. "Of course you miss them," says Barbara Roy, 66. "Myra has a spirit of joyfulness. Everybody says, 'Here comes Myra' and is happy. And Mike is steadfast and supportive of everybody. He's great with computers. My husband waits for him with the computer."

A trip to warmer climes is another casualty. The Pueschels have vacationed in Jamaica and elsewhere with Myra's sister and brother-in-law, Marie and Ken Allard. This year they've canceled plans to travel together to Playa del Carmen in Mexico, which would have cost the Pueschels $3,500. Marie offered to lend her sister the money, but Myra said no. The Allards won't go to Mexico without them.

"It's not the same," Marie says. "They're our vacation buddies."

Mike never expected to enter 2009 still looking for work.

"I was always nose to the grindstone," he says. "I never thought it would happen to me. I guess I realize it can happen to anyone." 

© Copyright 2009 The New York Times Company